It’s an early breakfast at The Chedi Andermatt, but this doesn’t faze my waiter as he gives my latte the full treatment. A mug of hot milk proudly held aloft as he pours in the coffee separating the white from the black. Pure theatre and I love it. And another surprise; the coffee mug is insulated, so no burning fingers as I take my first caffeine hit of the day.

Admittedly I am driving a classic Morgan, but in my head it is an Aston Martin. Nevertheless I am hurtling down the twisty Oberalppass towards Andermatt, with the top down enjoying the hot summer sun and feeling distinctly like a secret agent. Actually I’m lying about the hurtling bit, you never hurtle in a Morgan, you just glide and make sure everyone can see you.

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